


The Happiest Place On Earth

by spraycansoul



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie
Genre: Cussing, Disneyland, Fluff, M/M, Mostly Fluff, SnowBaz, Theme Park AU, but not too much, lil bit of angst, simon's 19th bday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 10:11:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7263784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spraycansoul/pseuds/spraycansoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A smile—a real one—appears on his face as the huge Disneyland sign shrinks behind us. “Welcome to the happiest place on earth,” he whispers into my ear, pulling me into his side.</p><p>“It really is,” I say. But I don’t mean Disneyland.</p><p>In which it is Simon's 19th birthday, and Baz takes him on a surprise trip to Disneyland Paris.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Happiest Place On Earth

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [Simon's birthday](http://sncwbaz.tumblr.com/post/146214838886/simon-19th-b-day-fic) and I had loads of fun writing this, even though it took a lot of research, since I've never been to Disneyland Paris. HAPPY BDAY BBY SIMON, my smol baby son. (≧◡≦)
> 
> [here](http://grimmpitchperfect.tumblr.com/post/146256726687/the-happiest-place-on-earth) on tumblr

#### BAZ

It’s five o’clock in the morning, and Simon Snow is asleep.

If this were just any other regular day, I wouldn't expect him to be awake for at least another five hours. Hell, _I_ wouldn’t be awake for at least another five hours if it meant cuddling in bed with him all that time. Which it usually does.

But today is his birthday, and we have a flight to catch at half-seven, and we’re already late.

I’ve been up for the past half-hour, doing some last minute packing, checking if everything was in order. Now, I’d just gotten out of the bathroom, already showered and dressed, to find Simon still curled up on our bed, lightly snoring. It’s a little torturous to have to wake him up when he looks so peaceful like that, but I don’t want all this planning to go to waste.

I sit next to him on the bed and press a kiss to his temple. “Happy birthday, love."

Snow nuzzles his face into his pillow, shaking his head. “Too early, Bazzy,” he groans.

I’d expected that. Rolling my eyes, I lean down to pepper his face in more kisses—the one sure-fire way to wake him up. He finally turns his face away from the pillow, sits up, and kisses back when I reach his lips. I can feel him smiling.

“And a happy birthday it is,” he says, his eyes droopy and his mouth in a lazy smirk. I grin, but it only lasts a second before I stand up and hold out his towel to him, all business.

“You have no idea just _how_ happy, but it won’t _be_ as happy if we miss our flight in two hours. Now, get up, birthday boy.”

This seems to wake him up. He shoots up from the bed and grabs his towel from me. “Are you finally gonna tell me where we’re going?” 

“Not a chance.”

* * *

I make him wear a blindfold when we get out of baggage claim. He makes a big show of refusing to wear it, but I know he’s a sucker for a good surprise, and he eventually caves. I’d cast a **No peeking** under my breath, just in case he tries. He knows we’re in Paris—it said so on his boarding pass and there really was no escaping that—but he doesn’t have to know where exactly we’re going just yet.

It’s a bit of a hassle, honestly, because Snow is already fucking hopeless with his feet even when he has two working eyes. You can just imagine trying to guide him on a travelator while pushing a cart of luggage when he has zero of two eyes working for him. 

That time I called him an absolute nightmare? This was confirming it.

#### SIMON

“Are you gonna tell me now?” I ask him for the fifth time since we’d gotten on the bus. I’d been in the dark—literally—for the past hour. Baz won’t even let me touch the blindfold to adjust it.

“Hmm.” He pauses, takes my hand. I suck in a hopeful breath as I feel him lean over me, probably to look out the window. After a few seconds, he settles back in his seat and says the words I’ve been waiting to hear all morning. “Okay. How about you take off your blindfold and I’ll show you?”

I all but rip off my blindfold, but it takes me a second to adjust to the light. When I look out the window, all my questions are answered by a single word sitting on top of the gates.

DISNEYLAND, it reads, in huge red letters.

I’d made it nineteen years but I’ve never been—let’s face it, when you spend your summers home-surfing, the opportunity never really presents itself. It just never occurred to me as a child, but now I realise that I’ve always wanted to go, even though I knew that the magic here isn’t real. Or it could be. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been.

Until now.

I press my head to the window, just to make sure that this is real. The glass is cold on my forehead. _Holy shit, this is definitely fucking real._

I turn to my boyfriend, who is smirking his annoyingly gorgeous smirk. It’s only been an hour, but I missed that face.

“You literally couldn’t be any cheesier, Basilton,” I tell him, even though I’m practically radiating excitement. I lean in to press my lips to his with a loud smack, holding his face in a death grip. “I love you for that.”

A smile—a real one—appears on his face as the huge Disneyland sign shrinks behind us. “Welcome to the happiest place on earth,” he whispers into my ear, pulling me into his side.

“It really is,” I say. But I don’t mean Disneyland.

#### BAZ

“Faster, Bazzy!”

“I—Hhh—Simon, wait, I—”

“I can’t! I can’t wait!”

“But there’s so many people—”

“Just come _on_ already!"

It turns out I’m not the only one full of surprises.

I'd expected he would choose the park with all the rollercoasters. He was Simon Snow, for Crowley’s sake. He lived for the adrenaline rush. He basically fed on danger.

And yet here he was, pulling me straight through Main Street and towards the Sleeping Beauty castle, grinning widely and not stopping once. He’s so excited, he’s practically overheating. His hand feels like a flame.

I’m already panting, because weaving through the crowd of people walking the same path we’re running is neither simple nor easy, but Simon, who trips on his own feet, either doesn’t notice or care. I do all the dodging for the both of us, and by the time we get to the castle, he’s bouncing up and down and I’m resting my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.

“Crowley, Snow, are you nineteen or nine?” I sneer at him through the hair that’s fallen in my face, but he’s not looking at me. Snow stares up at the castle as if it’s another dragon he has to slay—with a mixture of awe and nervousness.

“It’s so pretty,” he stage-whispers, just loud enough for me to hear. And it is, really. It’s a beautiful day, and the castle stands in front of us in all its glory, and I feel like I’m six years old again, visiting this place for the first time. Everything seems smaller now, probably because I’ve grown, but not any less interesting, though I would never admit it. I start to wonder if this place actually does have some _real_ magic in it.

When my heartbeat (or what’s left of it) is finally back to normal, I stand beside him and stage-whisper back. “Not as pretty as you.”

He slaps me on the chest for that one, and pulls out his cellphone to take pictures. He holds it out in front of us, angling it so the castle appears right above us, but I’m not looking at the phone.

#### SIMON

**THINGS I’VE DONE AT DISNEYLAND (as of 5:34 pm):**

(1) Seen the Sleeping Beauty castle  
(2) Kissed Baz in front of the Sleeping Beauty Castle  
(3) Bought Mickey Mouse ears for me and Baz  
(4) Almost had a meltdown when I’d discovered that Space Mountain was closed _and_ I couldn’t train to become a Jedi (Baz had to buy me a burger and fries from the nearby restaurant to calm me down. It was no sour cherry scone, but it worked.)  
(5) Gone on the Buzz Lightyear ride and beat Baz’s score (I’d like to think I did it all on my own, but I had a nagging feeling that he’d only let me. But I don’t want to think about it.)  
(6) Insisted that we ride It’s A Small World because it’s a classic  
(7) Suffered through Baz singing along during It’s A Small World as karma for forcing him to ride it with me  
(8) Watched Baz turn even paler (it’s possible!) on the Teacup ride  
(9) Lost Baz in the Alice in Wonderland maze and panicked  
(10) Found Baz and never let his hand go again  
(11) Met Mickey Mouse (!!!) and had him sign my ticket (I hadn’t known they could sign things, and naturally Baz rolled his eyes and said, “Everyone knows that, Snow.”)  
(12) Had lunch with Baz at the Blue Lagoon (where the waitress flirted with Baz and it was the most hilarious thing ever)  
(13) Got sad because most of Adventureland is closed and magic could do nothing to help  
(14) Got cheered up by Peter Pan (who was really quite cute, and Baz got a little jealous—though I wasn't sure if he was jealous of me or Peter.)  
(15) Baz (He was jealous of Peter.)

#### BAZ

I’ve been trying to stall Simon for as long as possible, but he’d have to discover it _some_ time. And I already felt terrible that he hadn’t been able to go on a single rollercoaster because the rest of them were closed.

 **Indiana Jones et le Temple du Peril** , the sign reads. And I had no doubts about the peril it would cause me.

I’d left my wand in our hotel room. There was no magic to save me here. I gulp, and Snow squeezes my hand.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, Baz,” he says, looking up at me. His eyes are soft and I want to jump of a cliff for being such a wimp.

I suck in a breath and force a tight-lipped smile. “Yeah, we do. I know how much _you_ want to, and it’s _your_ birthday after all.”

Snow doesn’t even have the decency to argue, and I don’t have the energy to say so. He just smiles, nods enthusiastically, and drags me to the line. Thank fuck I’d gotten us Fastpasses—there was no way in hell I was going to wait an hour and a half to die a slow and painful death.

We wait maybe three minutes in line—which is too short, even for the Fastpass line—and Snow spends most of that time telling me not to worry, that he’ll be right there with me the whole time, that he’ll hold my hand through it all, and what am I even afraid of?

“Falling,” I tell him. “I’ve a fear of falling.”

He clucks his tongue. “I doubt that.”

I raise an eyebrow. “You can’t just question my fears, Snow.”

He raises an eyebrow right back. “ _Fell_ in love, didn’t you?” he says, lowering his voice a little, mocking me. 

That gets a laugh out of me, and I’m just starting to remember when I’d said those same words to him when Snow grabs my hand and pulls me into the middle seats of the cart that had—ta da!—just magically appeared in front of us. Before I can process anything that’s happening, my legs are cramped in the too-small space in front of the seat, Simon buckles both of us in because I can’t move, and he grabs my hand a second time. 

“You ready?” he asks softly, squeezing my hand. My brain has given up on me, so I only manage to squeeze back, and then we’re moving. 

The cart turns right onto a steep incline, the loud click-click-clicking of the rails echoing in my ears, which are ringing, and it takes agonisingly long until finally, we’re at the top. I have just enough time to let out the breath I’ve been holding while the cart turns and turns before it drops suddenly and my eyes shut on instinct. I’m squeezing Snow’s hand so hard that I’m probably cutting off his circulation, I feel my hair whipping wildly in the wind and on my face, and beside me, Snow yells. He’s yelling and yelling and I open my eyes just to look at him, his golden curls flying in any and all directions, his face flushed and elated. He’s shouting every cuss word known to man, but he looks so fucking happy, and I’m already thinking that this isn’t so bad after all, that it’s not half as perilous as it’s chalked up to be, just some dips and sharp curves is all, and _then_.

Then the dips and curves are suddenly all on drugs and they’re throwing me and Simon off of our seats and my lunch right back up my throat and fuck, _stay down, stay down_ , and then it’s slowing and slowing and it’s all over.

Simon laughs, looking absolutely exhilarated, and I all but push him out of the cart. I barely make it out of the ride before my lunch makes its second appearance in the bushes nearby.

#### SIMON

I run out just fast enough to catch the last of Baz’s heaving in the bushes, and instantly I feel a little bad that I hadn’t insisted that he sit this one out. It hadn’t even occurred to me that this would happen, and now that it was, I didn’t know what to do.

I hold back for a few moments, let him get himself together, before I approach him.

“Bazzy?” I call out when I’m near enough. “You alright?”

He turns around, and there is my answer. He’s pale—paler than usual, even paler than he was on the Teacup ride earlier—and his hair is disheveled, and worst of all, he looks embarrassed.

Baz Pitch. Embarrassed. The world might as well have been ending.

It’s a miracle that his clothes are clean—or, knowing him, maybe not so much—and once I’ve registered that, I immediately pull him into a hug. He clutches me like a lifeline, his face burying into my shoulder. He smells like cedar, bergamot, and a little like spoiled shrimp.

“I’m so sorry,” I whisper in his ear, rubbing my hands up and down his back. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you would—” 

“No,” he mumbles, pulling away. “It’s not your fault, Snow.” His eyes are closed, and there is no snark in his tone. What have I done?

My face softens and I take his hand, leading him to a nearby bench. We sit, and I rummage through my backpack to look for a bottle of water. He takes a long sip from it, gargles, and spits it out on the grass. He takes another swig, this time swallowing. He doesn’t look at me.

“Baz,” I say.

He exhales loudly, shutting his eyes again. “Just—fuck, I’m really sorry, Simon.”

I frown at him. “No, I—why are you sorry? I shouldn’t have forced you to go on that ride.” I look down at our hands, the guilt settling in quickly. 

“You didn’t,” he says, running his other hand through his hair and pulling at it. “I wanted to do it, for you, because I felt so terrible that Space Mountain wasn’t even open and all the other cool rides were closed too, and so I rode it for you. It was going so well... I mean—shit, Simon, you looked so happy, and I would have ridden it a hundred times if it made you as happy as you looked then, but then I had to go ruin everything. Of fucking course.” He laughs bitterly, still avoiding my eyes.

I’m thoroughly confused, but one thing is ringing in my head. _I rode it for you._ “Baz.” 

“Yeah?”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” He looks up at me now, his grey eyes piercing. I kiss his knuckles for emphasis. “This has honestly been the best day of my life, and it’s not because we’re here.”

His face breaks, just a little. “It’s not?” 

I realize my mistake—I’ve never been good with words. “Not _just_ ,” I insist. “I mean… Disneyland. In fucking Paris. It’s a dream come true, I mean, come on,” I start rambling, because my brain has stopped working. “But I’m mostly happy because I’m here with you, Bazzy.” My voice is quiet now, but I don’t mean to make it like that. It just seems like this moment belongs to us, and us only. “Anywhere with you is the happiest place on earth.”

I catch Baz’s chin between my thumb and forefinger, tilt it downwards just enough so he’s looking at me again, and my lips catch his smile in a soft kiss. “Thank you,” I tell him when we pull away. “For all of this. Seriously."

Baz smirks, and just like that, his confidence is back. “Any time, sweet prince."

#### BAZ

After Simon had bought Penny at least one souvenir from each of the gift shops on Main Street (I paid, of course, after he’d tried and failed to put up a fight) and we’d had dinner at the Plaza Gardens Restaurant (a buffet, which Simon loved, because that meant all-you-can-eat birthday cake, which meant I had to sing the happy birthday song at least ten times), we head out to join the crowd in front of the Sleeping Beauty castle to catch the light show. We find a spot in front of a fountain, and it’s already begun: the castle is a rush of light and colour, music from classic Disney movies filling the air. Simon watches carefully, mouth hanging open as always, and I watch him, because I’ve seen it all before.

When the Tangled song starts playing, I hear Simon softly singing along.

_And it's warm and real and bright_  
_And the world has somehow shifted_  
_All at once everything is different_  
_Now that I see you_

A smile creeps onto my face, because of course this song fits perfectly. His golden hair turns pink, blue, purple in the light, but he looks just as amazing as always. 

“Did you have fun today?” I ask him, pulling him into my side. 

“Not sure how you’re ever gonna top this one, to be honest.” He smiles up at me, his teeth changing colour every few seconds. "And I'm only nineteen."

I hum, circling my arms around him completely. “ _Joyeux anniversaire_ ,” I say, planting a kiss on his forehead. “ _Je t’aime tellement_.” For a second, I’m grateful to Watford (and my mother) for drilling French into my brain. I’d been translating for Simon all day, but I hope he understands that much.

“ _Mille fois merci_ ,” he says, just loud enough for me to hear, planting a kiss on my jaw. “ _Je t’aime aussi_."

We stay like that for a few moments, just him and me and the lights and the magic, until an explosion of yellow light erupts from the castle, and we’re forced to look up.

“We did it, Tink!” Peter Pan exclaims, and the music swells, the chorus insisting that _you can fly!_ and indeed, it feels like flying. The pyro is coming from everywhere, and with one last bright burst of light, the show is over.

“Beautiful,” he stage-whispers, just like he did this morning.

“Not as beautiful as you,” I stage-whisper back, feeling like flying.


End file.
